The Maslow Supplemental
by Ninnik Nishukan
Summary: Just because 'Maslow' wasn't enough of a long ass read already. Drakken/Shego, seasons 1 through 3.
1. Season One

**The ****Maslow Supplemental**

Ninnik Nishukan**

* * *

Summary:** What do you _need_? Different aspects of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs applied to Drakken and Shego's daily lives in no particular order. Add a spoonful of uncomfortable silences, and we're good to go.**

* * *

Morality

* * *

**

"Stupid nano tick," Drakken grouched as they trudged up the hill to their new, hastily rented time share lair, both clad in wet and dirty orange prison suits.

"Tell me about it," Shego muttered, wringing the water out of her limp hair.

"Next time I'm going with a nano _bee_ instead!" He declared. "They can _fly_, so it could just fly on back to me in case I lost it—"

Shego groaned loudly. "Oh no, do _not_ tell me you're doing the exact same plan again!"

"Not the _exact_ same, Shego— _wings_, remember?" Drakken protested, wagging his finger.

"Look, Doc, ya gotta go with something new next time," Shego sighed, her patience hanging on by a thin thread. "We need an element of surprise."

Drakken frowned, lost in thought as they paused by the front door. "All right, how about selling dog collars that'll make us able to control their minds?"

"And?" Shego asked half-heartedly as she punched in the access code on the secret control panel next to the door. Leave it to Dr. D to try to come up with another plan right after the first one failed.

"I dunno, we can have them do...you know…_nefarious_ stuff," Drakken said, faltering a bit.

"Like what?" Shego asked as there was a beep and the door slid open.

"Uhm, well, we can have them attack people, sniff out spies—" Drakken continued, waving a hand vaguely as they walked into the lair and the door slammed shut behind them. "—and maybe leave a few little 'gifts' on Dementor's new fancy schmancy Persian rugs—" He added, a pleased, malicious grin starting to spread on his face when Shego interrupted him.

"And then roll over and beg? Maybe fetch your slippers?" She wondered sardonically. "Look, Dr. D, I don't wanna have a bunch of dogs running around the lair, okay? I don't work well with animals," she explained, shuddering a bit as she remembered the time when her older brother had tried to market a Team Go mascot, Arnold the Armadillo. Luckily, Mego whined that it was stealing all the attention away from him, and then it'd turned out not be housebroken, anyway, so she hadn't had to threaten to burn Hego's _Superman_ comics again.

Drakken just gave her a haughty glare. "Well, then it'd be a good learning experience for you, wouldn't it?"

Shego scoffed. "Hah! I can already guess who's gonna have to feed them and clean up after them once you're sick of them!"

"But _you_ were the one who said— the element of surprise! Who _wouldn't_ be surprised if their dog turned out to be controlled by an evil mastermind?" Drakken exclaimed, trying to make her see reason.

"Trust me, Dr. D, it's _way_ too much trouble," Shego held up a hand, shaking her head. "At least the henchmen feed themselves. Just drop it."

Drakken pursed his lips, scowling. "You know, Shego, I'm getting tired of listening to all your insults."

Shego blinked at him for a second before she frowned. "Insults? I'm just being honest."

"No, you're not!" Drakken replied immediately, his voice going up a pitch or two. "You're being snide and patronizing and smug and sarcastic and—well, it's— it's _hurtful_!"

"…_excuse_ me?"

"Words can hurt, too!" Drakken told her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And here I thought you were a big bad villain," Shego said flatly. "Silly me."

Drakken's went to his chest, his glare reproachful as he pouted at her. "Anybody can get hurt!"

Was this guy for _real_? Shego could quite clearly picture herself slapping her forehead and screaming in frustration, but she didn't do it. It was better to just move forward, or she'd go nuts. "Actually, I _wasn't_ being snide or patronizing or smug or sarcastic—" She clarified patiently. "See, if I'd being going for _those_, I'd have said something more along the lines of 'Sure, Dr. D, sure, that'll work, yeah! It's a _really_ great idea— in Bizarroland!' or something."

"See? Hurtful!" He accused.

Again, Shego could see herself snapping, but didn't. Her impatience only showed in the small sigh she let loose. "Yeah," Shego explained slowly, deliberately, studying his face, "but that's not what I actually _said_— that was just an _example_. I was being serious."

Drakken crossed his hands over his chest defiantly. "Oh, and as if you never say things like that!"

She shrugged. "Then stop suggesting stupid stuff."

"Shego!" He chastised her, gasping with offence. "Didn't your parents ever teach you about not hurting with your words?"

Shego stared.

She knew super villains were eccentric, but this was just too much. Oh, yeah— it was okay to rob, steal, flood entire cities, blow things up and attempt the homicide of two minors…as long as you didn't hurt with your _words_?

Yeah.

Wow.

"If you're gonna be _that_ sensitive, Dr. D, maybe you should ask yourself if you're in the right business," she remarked pointedly. "Villains aren't exactly known for making with the nice."

His eyes widened and he looked shocked for a minute, but then his expression hardened. "Well, you're the least making— uh, making-nicey-est of them all, Shego!"

"…right. I think I'll just go take a shower now," Shego mumbled, trying to filter out Drakken's vexed mutterings as she left the room. Why she'd even bothered having this whole silly discussion with him when she was wet, dirty and her back still ached from having had a four hundred pound high school student take a seat on it, was beyond her.

The next week, when he told her about his plan to steal the world's largest lazer drill in order to drown Milwaukee in magma, however, she started thinking that perhaps he was in the right business after all.

Or at least parts of him were.

He certainly had the evil laughing thing down pat, anyway.

**

* * *

**

Confidence

* * *

Drakken studied Shego's profile as they sat in front of the fire in his study in the Caribbean lair. She'd pulled her damp hair back in a tight ponytail, and the sweats she was wearing were all black. He didn't often see her in all black.

Even after four showers and after burning the outfits they'd been wearing earlier that day, the faint aroma of cheese still lingered.

And so did Shego's anger, it seemed.

"Are you okay, Shego?" He asked, a bit more gingerly than he'd planned on. He couldn't help it, though. The last time they'd made a jailbreak, it'd been with a much slower and complicated affair, but this time, Shego had, with a snarl and a growl and an unstoppable determination bathed in a green, pulsing glow, busted them out when they were still in the armored car on their way to jail.

He was sure security would be much tighter the next time they were caught. Well, he'd just have to make sure there _wasn't_ a next time, then, didn't he?

"Shego?" He prompted again, when there was no response.

The arms across her chest tightened, and she looked away. "Feh."

"Uhm…anything I can get you? Are you hungry?"

"How about Kim Possible's _head_ on a _platter_?" She gritted out.

He made a horrified face. "Eww, why would you want— oh. Right," he interrupted himself; then he cleared his throat. "Well, anyway, I was thinking of getting some Chinese take-out—"

"I'm _not hungry_."

"Aww, it's not so bad, Shego," Drakken said, patting her arm. "We almost had her. You'll beat her next time, and then we could probably arrange some kind of— well, I don't really want to discuss beheadings this close to _dinnertime_, but—"

She shrugged his hand off of her arm, shooting him a dark look. "Give it a rest, Doc. Don't patronize me. She beat me. Again. This _nothing_ little _brat_ just came in and— she's just a kid, trying to act all cool, and— she ruined my new _coat_, dammit!"

The girl had already sent them to jail once, and it would've been the second time now if they hadn't escaped. Shego used to _send_ people to jail, and she'd always figured she'd be able to avoid having the same thing happen to her since she knew the hero business— and this cheerleader didn't even have any _super powers_, for pity's sake! How could she possibly _lose _against somebody weaker and less experienced?

Gah— it just— it _really_ stung her!

Drakken frowned, not quite getting what the big deal was. It was just a coat. "Well, um…I could…buy you a _new_ coat?"

"It's not the _same_," Shego hissed. The point would be gone. She'd bought it not just because it had been a great coat, but because _Possible _had wanted it, and you took every advantage you could when you were a villain. If the brat would be distracted by Shego having something she wanted and couldn't afford, then that was a good thing— but now the coat wasn't a psychological weapon anymore, it was just a reminder of another battle lost. Besides, it was Club Banana— the coat would probably be out of style again next week, anyway, and Possible wouldn't care anymore.

"Hey!" Drakken objected huffily, frustrated that none of his attempts to get through to her were helping. "I don't know why you're so cranky! I was up to my waist in that cheese, too, you know!"

"Yeah, but you were up to your waist starting with your _toes_— not starting with your_ head_!" Shego spat.

Drakken hesitated; suffocating to death in one hundred per cent Wisconsin Swiss didn't sound like a particularly pleasant fate, no. "Well…um, well, you're okay now, and I'm sure it could've been worse!"

"_How_?"

"Uh… it could've been raining?"

Murder flashed in Shego's eyes. "Very funny!"

Drakken threw his hands up, sighing. "Look, I'm just trying to cheer you up!"

"I don't _need_ cheering up," Shego said tightly, glowering at him. Didn't he get that for some people, a pep talk only made things _worse_?

"Are you _sure_?" Drakken asked, leaning closer. Why was she blocking? Maybe he needed to remind her of what had happened. "I mean, Kim Possible really _humiliated_ you— after you'd had the upper hand with her the rest of the week, she really turned around and showed _you_ what's what, huh?"

Shego fixated an incredulous stare on him. What did he think he was— did he even _hear_ the devastating, thoughtless words coming out of his own mouth? Couldn't he sense himself digging his own grave deeper and deeper? In what bizarre alternative universe was _that_ considered 'cheering up'?

Shego released a menacing growl. "Not _helping_, Dr. D,"

Oblivious to her increasing anger, Drakken flapped a dismissive hand. "Well, I can certainly understand _that_— your pride must really be _kaput_ now, Shego!"

The chair scraped ominously against the floor as Shego stood up, her fists tightening and flaring up.

Apparently, Shego really _didn't_ want any cheering up, and wasn't afraid to hammer the point home.

The next time she lost against Kim Possible, Drakken just left her alone.

Maybe what worked for him didn't work for everybody.**

* * *

Intimacy

* * *

**

Drakken grumbled to himself as he started on his second root beer. His informant was late.

Wasn't that _just_ like people involved in top secret projects? It was always the same excuses— 'I couldn't get away, I had to work', 'They took me in for questioning', 'My superiors are beginning to suspect something', and his personal favorite: 'I think somebody's following me!'. Bah, nobody had any guts anymore— bunch of paranoid pansies, the lot of them! Didn't they care about the thrills and the money?

Nobody had any respect anymore. It was just like those people at the Cerebellum Ultra Smart Super Genius Thinking Society! They didn't even know a real genius when they saw one! If they were in fact as smart as their brochures said they were, they'd be showing him some proper admiration and not keep rejecting his applications every year!

Despite being on the job, he was just about to grow annoyed enough to consider ordering something stronger than root beer, and possibly some snacks, too, when somebody spoke his name.

When he looked up, it wasn't his informant, though. It was Shego, of all people, and she wasn't alone.

And she was wearing some kind of dress. He'd never seen her in a dress before.

Tilting her head at him, she gave him a look that he thought was rather suspicious. "Dr. D? What are _you _doing here?"

The young man accompanying her only smiled politely at him. "Big date?"

Shego couldn't quite hide her snort, it seemed. Nnngghh, she thought she was _so_ young and hip and that _he_ was just— it wasn't as if he was a loser just because he didn't have any social plans on a Saturday night! Some people were just too_ busy_ for dilly dallying!

"I'm _working_, Shego!" Drakken scolded her, indignant. "I'm waiting for an informant! I found somebody who might be able to tell me the whereabouts of the you-know-what!"

"You mean the Centurion Project?" She asked in a manner too careless for his liking.

"Shego! Ixnay on the Enturion-cay Roject-pay!" Drakken gasped, scowling at her.

Shego raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, trust me…even if he knew what the heck we were talking about, he wouldn't care."

Drakken gave the man a distrustful look, who just shrugged and smiled, running a casual hand through his bleached hair. _Surfer_, Drakken thought, eyeing his bronzed tan disapprovingly.

"Who _is_ that, anyway?" He demanded. "Your boyfriend?"

Shego's expression turned dubious. "My 'boyfriend'? What are we, twelve?"

"Well, what would _you_ call him?" Drakken shot back.

"Robert," she said, shrugging.

"Pleased to meet you," Robert said, holding out his hand.

Drakken just glared at it until the man got uncomfortable and pulled it back.

Shego trained a contemplative frown on Drakken. "You know, Dr. D…'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'."

"What? Who's Jack?" Drakken blinked. "Another one of your _not_-boyfriends?" He added snidely.

Shego rolled her eyes. "Forget I even said anything. See you Monday."

"Monday," Drakken grunted, giving her a curt nod.

"Did I say something wrong?" He heard Robert ask as they started walking away.

There was a disgusted sigh from Shego. "Don't worry about the Doc— he's _always_ like that. A total grump."

Drakken glowered as he watched Shego saunter off to her date and saw them disappear behind a large potted plant as they sat down at a table at the far end of the restaurant, but he soon became bored with giving them the hairy eyeball since they couldn't even see it anymore.

As he sat and waited, he glanced idly around, stirring his root beer with his straw—

—and realized he was the only person there who was sitting all by himself.

Now he had yet another reason to apply for the Thinking Society, he thought as his informant finally walked up to his table and he got ready to work on a Saturday night.

The singles mixers.

* * *

**Author's note: **Yep, some additional Maslow stuff. It's just because I've felt for over a year that I'd written too little from seasons 1 through 3— which makes sense since it's a romance story and the main focus would then of course be on season 4, but still— so I'd planned to write another small thing.  
I'm not gonna try crowbarring this into the main story. I'm just gonna put it as its own little thing on the side— a supplemental. So it's still part of the main story but will have its own place. It'd be too much work and maybe even impossible to squish the new parts in between the season 1 through 3 parts that Maslow already has.

I also won't be naming the Maslow titles 'Blah blah blah, part I' or Blah blah blah, part III' anymore. It's just too much work to figure out in which order they would go, especially considering the very, very vague sense of continuity KP has.

Why am I cranking out all this crap at once, you ask? Well, it's because I'm moving to another city to start my Master's Degree and have no idea when or if I'll have the time or opportunity to write much, so I just wanted to finish this now so I didn't have to worry about it later.

**I didn't have a chance to send this to my**** beta this time. Tear it apart, peeps.**

**Thanks to CJS **for the idea about mind control dog collars.

**Drakken trying to cheer up Shego:** Back when chapter **11: NINE **was published, jla2snoopy left a review saying that they wanted to see Drakken cheering up Shego for once, and I finally got my rear in gear and wrote it. _Bueno Nacho_ had Shego acting some of her cattiest towards Kim, almost Bonnie-esque, and I figured she must've been pretty bitter after going from having the upper hand to almost choking to death in cheese. Of course, she's a cartoon character in a Disney cartoon and was never gonna suffocate, but still, it must've left her in a pretty dark mood. And now we see why Drakken never tries to cheer up Shego anymore. XD

"**Uh… it could've been raining?":** Lame joke stolen from the film _Young Frankenstein_ by Mel Brooks.

**'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy':** Stolen from the film_ The Shining_ by Stanley Kubrick.

**Morality****: **Post-_Tick, Tick, Tick_.

**Confidence****: **Post-_Bueno Nacho_.

**Intimacy****: **Pre-_October 31__st_.

**Centurion Project:** From _October 31__st__._

**Cerebellum Ultra Smart Super Genius Thinking Society**** and its singles mixers:** Mentioned later in _Showdown at The Crooked D_. Drakken really wanted to join that society, and it was hinted that it was far from the first time he'd applied.


	2. Season Two

**The Maslow**** Supplemental**

Ninnik Nishukan**

* * *

Summary:** What do you _need_? Different aspects of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs applied to Drakken and Shego's daily lives in no particular order. Add a spoonful of uncomfortable silences, and we're good to go.**

* * *

Friendship

* * *

**

Usually, or at least often enough, she'd have a date on Friday night. Or at least some kind of plan for the weekend. Wind surfing or something. Maybe a spa trip.

But tonight…well, it'd been a long week, and she hadn't had the time to make any plans.

Tonight, she just wanted to drop onto a bar stool and crawl into a bottle of something. Drakken had squandered all the money on a stupider plan than usual, and yet another lair had been blown up. She'd spent at least an hour getting all the soot out of her hair, and she thought she still smelled a little singed.

On top of that…well, no Iceland.

So now she'd headed into the first and best bar closest to the Caribbean lair.

Which surprised her by hosting, among its otherwise normal clientele, one blue-skinned, mad scientist.

She hesitated at the door, considering leaving again, when he looked up and she caught his eye across the room.

To her further surprise, Drakken tried ducking down slightly at his table so she wouldn't see him, but he wasn't exactly an anonymous face in a crowd; he stood out like a sore thumb wherever he went. And not just because of the blue skin and weird dress sense; he had the curious ability to become even more conspicuous when he was trying to hide. One of these days she'd have to consider teaching him a few ninja stealth tricks.

Seeing that he absolutely didn't want her to come over, she was of course forced by her very nature to go over there and bother him, even if she was also here to get a break from work— most notably from the Drakken part of it. She couldn't let a mocking opportunity like this pass her by.

Drakken groaned as he realized Shego had spotted him. Why did she have to come here, and tonight of all nights? This was his secret spot, his little hideaway, his sanctuary, where he could get away when the pressures of villainy overwhelmed him, and he'd had it up to _here_ with vigilante cheerleaders— and now it had been_ invaded_!

She was here to poke fun at him, somehow; he could tell by her saucy saunter and crooked smirk that she was bored and wanted to take it out on him.

He really wasn't in the mood for her sarcasm tonight. It was often one of the other reasons he went here on Friday nights. After a night at the bar, he'd usually regained some of the confidence he'd lost from another scheme going south, and was ready to face her again.

This week had been particularly bad, considering all the money he'd let just slip through his fingers. It was harsh enough that the evil scheme had gone down the drain in the most embarrassing way possible— foiled by _himself_, no less— but he'd _really_ been looking forward to living in that new 34 million dollar lair! It'd been the most luxurious he'd ever owned.

And now there wouldn't even be a marble Jacuzzi with golden taps in which to soak away his defeat.

"Hey, Doc," Shego greeted him, wickedly cheerful.

"Of all the bars, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine," Drakken replied sullenly. "_Why_?"

"Because I want a drink," she replied smoothly, slipping into the chair across from his. "Besides, not like I _knew_ you come here."

"I didn't even know you _liked_ karaoke," he mumbled, sulking now, and not caring if he was. How was he supposed to relax on stage with her there?

"Wait, wait, wait—_ karaoke_?" She demanded, grabbing his sleeve.

"Well, yes," he said, puzzled. "It's a karaoke bar. Didn't you know?"

"You're not…you're not going to _sing_, are you?" She asked with not a small amount of fear. Glancing towards the stage, she blanched as she saw a blond, chubby guy walk on, fidgeting as he picked up the microphone and selected a song.

Drakken coloured. "And what if I _am_?" Great, now she was making him feel embarrassed about something he liked! This was just like the time one of the girls in high school had discovered him reading science fiction comics during class.

She sighed, letting go of his sleeve and leaning back into her seat. "Then I'd be wondering if I should be running for the hills or if I should be sticking around to see you humiliate yourself."

"Droll, Shego. Very droll."

Shego grinned. Drakken snorted and rattled the ice cubes in his drink.

Finally, when Shego didn't say anything else, he looked up, and saw that she was pushing back her chair. An unsettling wave of regret rolled over him, then, confusing him. Here he'd been wishing she'd never even come here in the first place, but now that she actually _was_ leaving— well, it just didn't feel right.

And for whatever reason, he felt compelled to stop her. "So, um— I guess you're not staying, then?"

She paused, her hand on the back of her chair. "I thought you wanted me to leave," she reminded him, trying to hide her surprise.

He broke their eye contact for a second. "Well, I thought you'd _laugh_—"

She smirked. "I can't promise that I won't."

He glowered at her for a moment before he gave an embarrassed little shrug. "Some company _would_ be nice, even if it's lippy," he conceded, hoping she wouldn't make a big deal out of it. This would be the perfect opportunity for her to make fun of his admittedly non-existent social life. Then again, _she_ was there alone, too…

She followed his eyes, which darted across the other tables, and saw that everyone else was sitting in pairs or groups, unsurprisingly. Because who went to _karaoke_ by themselves?

Only mad scientists, she thought, shaking her head. And apparently their assistants, if even by mistake.

"Eh, I don't feel like looking for another bar, anyway," she replied casually as she sat back down.

His face lit up subtly, and he called for the waiter before turning back to her when the waiter appeared at their table. "What are you having, Shego?"

Her eyebrows shot up at this uncharacteristic show of generosity, and she couldn't quite think of anything. "Uh— whatever you're having, I guess—" She began uncertainly, but before he could order, she snapped out of it, leaning across the table. "Wait— what exactly _are_ you having?" Her face took on a skeptical expression as she imagined something sticky and sweet with neon-colored straws and little paper umbrellas in it— an over-the-top drink for an over-the-top person.

"Whiskey on the rocks," he told her, shrugging.

She relaxed back into her seat and nodded at the waiter. "Make it two." She wasn't an old-fashioned woman and didn't believe the man should always pay for drinks. She did, however, believe that a person who had been subjected to psychological torture should receive some kind of reimbursement for it. Or at least if that person was her, she thought, as she winced her way through the last verse of 'Believe' by Cher, currently being made, impossibly, even more horrendous by the guy on stage.

Drakken smiled at her. "I think I'll go do a song while we wait for our drinks," he said, nodding at the stage, where the singer was bowing for the half-hearted applause.

She paled. He really _was_ going to—?

Drakken gave her shoulder a brief, soothing pat. "Don't worry, Shego, I've done this before."

"That's not why I'm worried," she muttered as he walked on stage.

Ah well, at least he was buying. She supposed she could stick around and see how bad he was.

"Her name was Loooola, she was a daaaancer—!"

Oh, great. He was a Manilow fan. That just about made her fabulous evening complete.

Shego sank further down on her chair.

Later, Drakken was practically _beaming_ after his fifth number of the night. Neither of them had wanted to think about work, yet there they were, still spending time together outside of work hours and outside the lair— and to his surprise, he'd enjoyed himself a lot, despite her eye rolling and cringing. After all, it couldn't have been _that_ bad if she wasn't leaving, right? Sure, he was bribing her with drinks, but if she'd _really_ wanted to go, a few free drinks wouldn't have been enough to stop her.

He found himself wondering if maybe he could eventually manage to talk her into doing a number herself. He was getting curious as to what song she'd choose and what she'd sound like.

"Let's do this again next Friday," Drakken suggested merrily.

"Don't bet on it," Shego mumbled into her drink.

* * *

Three weeks later, they were at the karaoke bar again. For the fourth Friday in a row.

It figured.

Sometimes she wondered if Drakken had some sort of secret hypnotic abilities that made her go along with most of his stupid ideas. She hoped so, at least, because the only other possibility would have to be that there was something seriously wrong with her. Maybe she harbored some masochistic tendencies she didn't know about. That'd explain why she hadn't left Team Go much sooner, anyway.

So far, Drakken had performed three songs, all sappy and semi-off key, and had consumed five drinks— all sugary and full of tiny umbrellas— and counting.

And now, those drinks were apparently starting to have their effect.

"Ick!" He blurted suddenly.

She sent him a curious look. "What? Your drink bad or something? 'Cause I think they have some kinda apprentice bartender in today— my Irish Coffee's got _way_ too little Irish in it and, like, _way_ too much sugar—"

He shook his head profusely. "No! I mean, _you_ said it! Ick!"

"Um…_not_ quite following ya there, Doc."

"When mother was visiting for Mother's Day, you— you said I was _ick_!" He accused, pointing a quivering finger at her nose. His other hand was gesturing emphatically while still holding his drink, and spilled a few drops of Bailey's across the table cloth on every downswing.

She followed the movements of his hand with some apprehensive irritation. "Okay, how many of those have you _had_ tonight, Dr. D?"

"Don't change the subject!" He exclaimed, attempting a scowl. "Admit it, you said I was…was _icky_!"

"And you're bringing that up _now_— _why_, exactly?" She asked impatiently.

"Because I happened to _remember _it now, that's why!" Drakken set his jaw defiantly. "And I want to know why you said ick!"

Shego sighed. "And I was supposed to— what? Be _thrilled_ over the concept of my _employer's_ _mother_ trying to convince me in a none too delicate manner that it's a fabulous idea to just throw my life away and start squeezing out my boss' screaming, blue babies at the ripe old age of twenty-five?"

Drakken's face soured, and he put his drink down. "Nice imagery, Shego. Are you trying to put me off my pretzels?"

She snorted. "Nothing could put _you_ off your pretzels, Doc."

He gasped. "Are you implying I'm _fat_ now?"

She pulled a face. "Oh boy…!"

"Admit it, you think I'm _horrible_!" Drakken wailed, accidentally knocking over his drink. Luckily, it had been mostly empty.

Shego gritted her teeth in frustration. Leave it to Drakken to be an emotional drunk, huh? "Dr. D, it could've been _Johnny Depp's_ mother, and I _still _would've reacted the same way!" She insisted, rolling her eyes. "I _despise_ match-making, I don't wanna settle down, I don't even wanna _think_ about procreating— and you're my _boss_, for pity's sake!"

Now he was looking at her with a mixture of suspicion and confusion. "So you _do _think I'm cute, then?"

Shego sighed. "Look, I'm not gonna lie— you're not exactly gonna be on the cover of _Eligible Bachelors_."

Drakken's face fell, his lower lip starting to tremble, but Shego wasn't done talking.

"But nobody expects a mad scientist to be a heart throb, anyway— and I suppose that, for a mad scientist, you don't look half bad," she told him matter-of-factly, shrugging one shoulder. Normally, she might not have bothered trying to cheer him up, but she didn't feel like spending her evening with a sullen Drakken. Besides, she had a pleasant, mellowing kinda buzz from the alcohol, the singer currently on stage was better than average and was doing some laid back, jazzy number, and Dr. D was buying the drinks again, so she wasn't opposed to showing a little goodwill tonight.

He brightened. "Better than Dementor?"

"Ugh, what _is_ it with you and that guy, anyway?" She asked irritably, but ploughed on before he could answer. "Fine, yes, better than Dementor, okay? Not that it takes much— I mean, the guy looks like the missing eighth dwarf, Steroidy— with a baking bowl for a hat," she added with a scoff.

Drakken snickered a bit at that, but it seemed he didn't think that was the end of the discussion. "So what do you mean by not 'half bad'?"

She fixed him with an overbearing look. "Now you're just fishing for compliments, aren't you?"

He retorted with a pouty glare. "Well, since you haven't given me any in, say, the last _millenium_ or so, I do believe you're due."

She sighed in resignation, starting to get a bit fed up, after all. There was a definite limit to her goodwill. How did she end up thinking that spending her Friday night building up Dr. D's ego was a good idea, anyway? She must've had more to drink than she'd thought. "Okay, okay— remember the time you switched bodies with what's-his-face, Private Dobbs?" She began, giving in.

A dark look crossed his face. "What of it?"

She shrugged. "Well, it was, you know, kinda nice to have the old one back again," she admitted, slightly reluctantly. "Much eviller. Y'know…powerful, menacing." _Yep, I've __**definitely**__ had just a little too much to drink,_ she thought.

"'Menacing' does not impress the ladies. 'Menacing' does not equal 'cute'," he objected sulkily.

Shego flapped a dismissive hand. "'Cute' is in the eye of the beholder, and besides, 'menacing' impresses the _evil_ ladies, Doc— and I'm going to assume that's the kinda women you wanna meet, right?" She reminded him reasonably.

A huge grin bloomed on his face. "You know, Shego, you're _right_!"

"I _know_," she said, tone blunt.

"Thanks! I'm sure there'll be somebody for me someday!" He exclaimed, before adding: "_After _I've conquered the world, of course— I _do_ have my priorities!"

"Of course," Shego said, chuckling a bit as she shook her head.

"Now, if you'll excuse me—"

A moment later, Drakken was swaying slightly up on stage, grinning into the microphone. "I'd like to dedicate this next number to a very special sidekick! Because it's just no fun when I rant to myself!"

Shego gawked.

"You know I caaaaan't smile withooooout you! I caaaaan't smiiiile withoooout you! I can't laugh—"

Shego grimaced, groaning. "Oy vey."

"—and I can't sing!"

"You got _that_ right", she muttered, hiding her face under the tablecloth.

It was official. She was _never_ letting Drakken get drunk around her _ever _again.

The next week, she was woken up on Saturday afternoon by a phone call from Rico, the bar owner, complimenting her on her nice rendition of 'Barracuda' before reminding her that she'd left her wallet behind at the bar.

Well, at least she'd kept her promise to herself, she thought moodily, as she finally dragged herself out of bed at around two pm.

She hadn't let _him_ get drunk.**

* * *

Author's note: **All Post-_Ron Millionaire_.

I had to include how the karaoke night started, somehow.

"**Of all the bars, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.":** Do I really need to tell you where I ripped this off from? I just changed 'gin joints' to 'bars'. :P

"**Her name was Loooola, she was a daaaancer—!":** Copacabana, by Barry Manilow.

"**You know I caaaaan't smile withooooout you! I caaaaan't smiiiile withoooout you! I can't laugh—":** Can't Smile Without You, by Barry Manilow.

'**Barracuda':** By Heart.

* * *


	3. Season Three

**The Maslow**** Supplemental**

Ninnik Nishukan

* * *

**Summary:** What do you _need_? Different aspects of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs applied to Drakken and Shego's daily lives in no particular order. Add a spoonful of uncomfortable silences, and we're good to go.**

* * *

Friendship and Food**

* * *

When Shego woke up that morning, she was in an almost disconcertingly good mood.

Her bed felt softer and more comfortable than usual, somehow.

Maybe that was because she hadn't fought Kim Possible that week yet, and wasn't bothered with little bruises and aches.

When she cracked open the window, the sun was bright outside, and the breeze was refreshing even though it was warm.

When she looked in the mirror, her hair still looked decent even after a long night's sleep, and she wasn't covered in the fine layer of sweat that was so easy to develop during these tropical nights. So, simply dragging a brush quickly through her hair and tossing on some sweatpants and a top, she padded out of her room towards the kitchen, already planning on going for a swim after breakfast.

This was going to be a good day.

When she walked past Drakken's desk in the lab, she saw an envelope that had her name on it, which looked like the kind of envelope he'd usually give her at this time of month; payday. Apparently, it must've slipped his mind this time; either that, or he just hadn't gotten up yet.

After a quick run through of the note inside, she discovered that her salary was a bit higher than what she'd expected. Not by all that much, but enough to widen her lazy ghost of a smile to a pleased grin. Drakken really _was_ doing better these days. It seemed as if his new synthodrones were getting him some attention in the villain circles. People were growing more cooperative, and that meant more business and more trade. And those synthodrones were pretty handy in bank robberies, too.

No wonder he'd just ordered a massive expansion of the lair. She wondered if that meant she'd get that hot tub she'd wanted.

Humming slightly to herself, she walked into the kitchen, and instead of just gulping down some juice and some muesli like usual, she found herself dragging out the frying pan from the cupboard.

Gathering eggs and bacon from the fridge, she set to work. She'd have to take a shower later after her swim, anyway, so the grease smell didn't bother her like it normally did. These sorts of moods didn't strike her very often, so when they did, she usually went with them, just for a change. If they weren't too ridiculous, of course.

When Drakken entered the kitchen, yawning as he shuffled in on his fuzzy slippers, he stopped cold just inside the doorway as he caught sight of his sidekick.

Shego.

Was wearing an apron.

Shego was up at eight am. On a Sunday.

Wearing an apron.

_Cooking_. While wearing an apron. At eight am. On a Sunday.

Shego. Apron.

He checked the calendar on the kitchen wall. It wasn't April first. Or his birthday. Or time-to-ask-for-a-raise day. Not that she'd ever worn an apron for any of those before, anyway.

Pulling his robe properly closed over his pajamas, he tip-toed towards her, gently clearing his throat.

"What are you doing?"

She looked up. "Morning, Dr. D," she said in a preoccupied sort of way, promptly turning back to the frying pan. "I just, y'know, thought you might like some breakfast. It's almost done."

He blanched. "Oh, snap— you're not wearing a _Moodulator _again, are you?"

That made her drop the spatula. "_Excuse_ me?"

He shook his head in disbelief, launching into a bewildered, babbling rant. "I mean, why are you doing— that's my favorite kind of breakfast! Why are you— for _me_? You hate cooking and you hate the grease smell! And if you're doing something you hate, it can only mean your mind's been altered somehow!"

Sending him a flabbergasted look, she reached out to stop him. "Dr. D, would you just calm dow—"

He froze, staring at her hand. "You're not going to try to _kiss_ me, are you?"

She took a step back, gripping the counter as she gawked at him. "What are you— have you gone _insane _or something?"

"B-b-but you're— bacon! Eggs! Apron!" He spluttered, pointing a finger at the stove. "And it's for _me_!"

She gave her head a slow, befuddled shake. "And so what?"

He gaped at her for a moment before shutting his mouth. "But…but _why_?" He asked eventually, in a feeble voice.

She'd finally had enough, then. "Fine! Whatever!" She snapped, pulling off her apron and chucking it in the trash. "That's the _last_ time I'll _ever_ try to do something ni— guh! Whatever!" She shouted as she dumped his breakfast in the sink with a loud clatter.

Drakken stared after her as she stomped off in a huff.

A few seconds went by before his brain kicked into gear again. "Oh," he muttered, looking down at the mess of eggs, bacon and grease in the sink. "Nnnngghh!" He went on, rubbing his face even as he grimaced sharply.

Well, _that_ could've probably gone better.

He supposed he'd have to attempt to handle it a bit more…_sanely_ the next time she did something like that for him.

Too bad it was probably going to be a long, _long_ while before she'd ever bother to be nice to him again.

But what did she _expect_, anyway? Shego cooking him breakfast, out of the blue and at her own initiative, was about as common an occurrence as Kim Possible deciding to skip crime fighting for an evening to rearrange her stamp collection!

Sighing, he went to get himself some coffee when he noticed an unharmed piece of bacon lying on the counter.

He picked it up and carefully tasted it.

It was perfect.

Again, he sighed, but this time, there was a note of gastronomic delight within the resignation.

Apologizing didn't come easy for him, but it looked like he was due.

Squaring his shoulders, he walked out of the door, on a mission—

—but then he doubled back for a glass of juice and a bowl of muesli.

When he was halfway down the hall, he turned on his heel again and ran back for a grapefruit, stuffing it into the pocket of his robe.

It was probably wise to go into _this_ particular battlefield waving the largest white flag he could find.

* * *

**Self-actualization

* * *

**

"What are your ambitions, Shego?"

"Huh?"

She lowered her magazine, blinking up at him from her chair, slightly disoriented. She'd been reading a rather good article about the science of snake venom.

"Ambitions?" Drakken repeated, waving a hand. "You know, _plans_? Do you have any?"

"You've got _more_ than enough for the both of us, Dr. D," she said as she tucked the magazine away into a box under the lab table. If he'd noticed she'd been reading one of his copies of _Science Illustrated_, he didn't comment.

He pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at her with suspicion. "What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," she said innocently. "Besides, if I actually _had_ any plans, you'd probably already have like a _dozen_ of your own to tell me about before I'd even get a word in edgewise."

"Fine, then— tell me about your plans," he challenged waspishly, still suspecting that she'd just enjoyed a private joke at his expense. _Let's just see her do better!_

"Uhm…"

"Well?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't actually have any _right_ this _minute_— I was talking _hypothetically_."

His expression turned smug; it wasn't often that he was able to prevent her from throwing back some snappy remark. "Thought so."

Provoked by his arrogance, she couldn't resist defending herself. "Look, I'm not— I like living in the moment, okay? And my goals are basically to stay out of jail, make plenty of money and lead a life that doesn't bore me—" She paused, shooting him a suspicious look. "—and you're _so_ just using this whole conversation as a set-up to tell me about your latest scheme, aren't you?"

For a second, he vaguely resembled the Go family cat; the way it had usually looked whenever she'd pulled its ball of string away. "Actually— um, I don't really have any ideas right now, either," he mumbled reluctantly.

"You're kidding."

It just figured. The one time he'd actually bothered to ask her about her plans, it was just because he didn't have any himself. If she _did _have any ideas, she thought, glowering at him, he'd probably conveniently forget they were hers and pass them off as his own later on.

He shook his head, cringing a bit before he drew himself up again with certain air of defiance. He'd been so enjoying putting her a little off balance, but now it seemed she had the upper hand once again, and it vexed him so. "No— so I figured maybe talking to you would help me brainstorm, but since you don't have any _real_ ambitions—"

"I guess ruling the world wouldn't be bad," she said half-heartedly, shrugging.

Not noticing her lack of enthusiasm, he sent her a wistful smile. "It really _would_ be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, but so far we haven't gotten any closer than what we were three or four years ago, ya know."

His expression went from dreamy to crestfallen; she just _had_ to say it, didn't she? It was hard to maintain grandiose fantasies around her natural skepticism; he still wasn't quite sure whether that was a good thing or not. "Well, if it hadn't been for Kim _Possible_—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Shego interrupted him, shaking her head.

Drakken sighed, walking over to the couch and sinking down onto it. "Sometimes I wonder what's the point."

Shego followed suite, sighing as well. "Only _sometimes_?"

His expression drooped further, and he sent her a helpless look.

Rolling her eyes, she patted his shoulder comfortingly. Drakken almost jumped at that, but then relaxed just as quickly, regarding her profile with equal parts astonishment and gratefulness. It looked like apologizing after that whole breakfast fiasco last week had been a smart move. A more sympathetically inclined Shego, even as cynical as she could still be, was nice to have around when you were feeling a little uninspired and directionless.

Shego gave his arm one last reassuring squeeze before picking up the remote control and turning on the TV. Maybe he'd get some ideas from watching and would stop moping around.

She turned on the news, and for some reason, he perked right up at that.

_T__hat sure didn't take long_, she thought, shaking her head.

Drakken was now pointing excitedly at the screen. "Look, Shego! Look who it is!"

She tilted her head. "Yeah, it's that guy, that Japanese toymaker—"

Drakken nodded. "Hiroshi Nakasumi!"

She shrugged. "Right."

Drakken stroked his chin in thought as he studied the TV screen. "I wonder what Tokyo's like this time of year…"

"Crowded," she said flatly. "Why?"

A malicious grin was spreading across his face now. "Because I think I've got a _job_ for you, Shego."

**(End Supplemental).

* * *

**

**Author's note:** All pre-_So The Drama_.

I figured there had to be some reason why Shego was pretty supportive of Drakken in _So The Drama_, and I concluded it was because he'd finally gotten his shit together. The lair shown in StD seemed to be bigger, had a more extensive and more professional staff, and all in all, they seemed to have more money than usual. I'm sure more respect equals more goodwill from Shego. Drakken doing better would mean less frustration and annoyances for them both, anyway, which would prompt even a villain to be a little nice— well, towards other villains who are teamed up with them, that is. Not towards people in general. XD

**The science of snake venom:** Headline from the newest edition of _Science Illustrated_. I suppose she runs out of fashion magazines sometimes and starts browsing through his— or maybe she just gets tired of fashion magazines once in a while.

**Hiroshi Nakasumi:** As far as I know, Nakasumi was never given a first name. I just picked Hiroshi because it's fairly common.

**Shego cooking bacon**** very well:** Fanon usually makes Shego a terrible cook. There's nothing on the show to indicate her level of culinary skill, however, so I basically make her a good cook whenever I want to, and a bad one whenever I want that instead.


End file.
